Childe's Play
by Angelscribe
Summary: Angel Investigations has a demon problem and turns to magic to help, but somehow Doyle and Cordy are left with a little kid who couldn’t possibly be their boss. Could he...?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the property of Joss Whedon – I just like playing with them.

**Fic notes:** Set during season 1, Angel Investigations has a demon problem and turns to magic to help. Funny how rarely that's straight-forward … Somehow, Doyle and Cordy are left with a three year old kid who couldn't possibly be their boss. Could he?

**General notes:** Sorry this part's so short - it's just the prologue but if anyone's interested, there should be more very soon. All feedback appreciated:)

* * *

**Childe's Play**

**Prologue**

Standing alone in the office of Angel Investigations, Cordelia Chase stared out of the window with wistful brown eyes and heaved a sigh. The dark underbelly of the city she looked over seemed well hidden by the twinkling of bright lights and neon signs, but she knew better than most that it was always there, just lurking beneath the surface. As much as she had grown almost accustomed to her life as it was, for a moment she longed to be a part of that glittering world. Her dream of achieving stardom seemed to be slipping out of her reach to be replaced by a life of aiding Angel in his fight against evil and sometimes, when it was all getting on top of her or when she didn't have Angel and Doyle to distract her, she couldn't help wishing for a normal life. Not even a celebrity one necessarily – normal would do. Just a life where slaying vamps, averting apocalypses and so forth wasn't part of the routine. A life with less …

"Demon slime!"

While she had been lost in her thoughts, the door had opened to admit the remainder of the Angel Investigations crack team – the two men looking strangely bedraggled and thoroughly pissed off. For a second, Doyle froze in the doorway at the brunette's exclamation with a caught look on his face. For a brief second, the Irishman was convinced the young woman had discovered his well-kept secret regarding his demon heritage and was about to plead his case when she continued.

"Demon slime on the floor! Look at the mess you're making and I'd just cleaned!" she shrieked.

Doyle could only hope his relief didn't show too much as he relaxed and continued to cross the room, allowing Angel to finally get through the door he had been blocking.

"Nice ta see you too, Cordy." he said wryly, "Yes, we got our asses kicked and even nearly got ourselves killed, but no need ta fuss or nothin'!"

Cordelia rolled her eyes impatiently, ignoring his remarks and turning on Angel. "But you killed it, right – the big demony thing?"

"Wrong." her boss said shortly.

"What?" she said sternly, "Tell me you're kidding? But we did the research – _I_ did the research – you had the sword, there's two of you and one of it … What went wrong?"

Angel exchanged a weary look with Doyle and produced the mythical sword which was supposed to be the answer to their current problem from behind his back – in two pieces.

"Turns out the sword only works on the demons when they're newly risen, but by the time we got there …"

"Our boy was definitely outta nappies." Doyle filled in as he took off his slime covered leather jacket and regarded it ruefully.

* * *


	2. 1

**Notes: **Thanks to all my reviewers so far for the encouragement - I love getting feedback:)

* * *

**1.**

"Okay, what do we do now?" Cordelia demanded once Angel had reappeared from his apartment downstairs, looking more presentable in a clean black shirt and black slacks. "We can't just let that thing roam the streets – have you seen the size of it? And probably not getting any smaller …"

"I think it's safe to say we noticed that, Cordelia." Angel said patiently, "We'll just have to find some other way to kill it …"

"What part of "indestructible" are you not getting? The sword – only option. And you broke it."

"Well, it was either the sword or my neck …" the ensouled vampire huffed quietly, folding his arms.

Cordelia shook her head and thought for a moment, "Could it be fixed, do you think?"

"Maybe, but I don't see what good that would do – it's too late. The demon's all grown up now …"

"Listen, buddy – this is one thing sitting in the dark and brooding over is definitely _not_ gonna fix. Never say never and all that cheery crap – you go see whatever sword fixer-upper you might know of and leave the rest to me."

"But …"

"No buts – go on, get going. I can handle this." she said confidently, "After all, what more could go wrong? _You_ already broke the best chance we had!"

Realising that it was pointless to even try arguing, Angel gathered up his jacket and the pieces of the sword and headed for the door. He didn't know what the girl expected to be able to do, but it was probably best to humour her …

* * *

"Got it!" 

"What?"

"A way to kill our not so charming friend – told you I would!" Cordelia announced triumphantly on Angel's return. "Did you get the sword fixed?"

"Good as new." Angel said, showing her the now intact blade. "But how did you …?"

"Hey, you're not the only one with useful friends! Got on the hotline to Sunnydale …"

"Willow."

"Bingo! Am I good or what? You know, if _I_ was the boss, I would so think about giving me a raise right now …" she smiled hopefully.

"We haven't killed the demon yet …" Angel pointed out, "How do we …"

He broke off as they were interrupted by the door opening and Doyle returned from his flat where he'd been cleaning up after their last encounter with the demon. Shooting them both a broad grin, he held up the brown paper bag he had been carrying under one arm and nodded to Cordelia.

"I got the stuff – ya all set at this end?"

"Would someone please tell me what we're doing here!" Angel asked impatiently.

Not pausing in her task of taking the bag from Doyle and spreading out the contents according to instructions she had scribbled on a piece of paper, Cordelia waited until she had everything set up to her liking and then turned to Angel.

"We're getting ready to solve our not so little problem, okay?" she said brightly. "Think you could manage not to break anything this time?"

At Angel's baffled look, Doyle stepped forward to provide further explanation, "The lass Cordy got on the blower had a spell ta regress the demon so it'll be as if it was newly risen – then ya can take yer fancy sword an' go find it ta have another crack. Good plan, ain't it?"

"In theory." Angel said cautiously, "I mean, it's a good idea but are you sure we'll be able to find it again in time? And what about the actually spell? Willow's a Wicca – she knows what she's doing when it comes to spells. Are you sure you can do this without her actually here?"

"Of course!" Cordelia said indignantly, "I wrote down everything she said – okay, the line was a little fuzzy – but I can do this, Angel. Now, shhh!"

Not giving her boss time for further protest, she ordered both he and Doyle to form a circle with her and then set about lighting candles before launching into a chant in Latin. Badly pronounced Latin.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Angel whispered uneasily, "That sounds a little …"

"Shhh!"

A gentle breeze began to blow through the office, picking up a little as Cordelia kept up her chant until it was soon tossing her long hair and causing papers to fly off the desks. Although now looking less sure of herself, Cordelia was still determined to see this through and kept up the chant until there was a bright flash and an invisible force seemed to shot outwards from the circle, blasting the three co-workers apart.

With a little cry, Cordelia found herself flung into one corner, narrowly avoiding striking her head on a large potted plant. Doyle, on the other hand was not so lucky and found himself crashing onto Cordelia's desk with a pained groan for his maltreated ribs as he then slid to the floor.

"Everybody alright?" Doyle asked shakily as he sat up and looked around the room. "Hey, where'd Angel go?" he added, sounding puzzled before he noticed the look on Cordelia's face and hurriedly staggered to his feet. "What is it, princess? Are ya hurt?"

"I think I did something bad …" she said faintly, pointing towards the corner and Doyle followed the line of her finger anxiously.

"Holy mother o' God!" he gasped.

A bundle of black clothes lay tangled by a bookcase, but it seemed that their owner was gone. In his place, however, was a small boy of no more than four years of age. A small boy with dark spiky hair, a confused expression and his thumb firmly lodged in his mouth.

* * *


	3. 2

**Notes: **Thank you to anyone who reviewed - I really do appreciate it:)

* * *

**2.**

Picking herself off the floor and turning to the most crucial task in hand - dusting off her skirt - Cordelia tutted to herself before turning to Doyle with a frustrated expression.

"When was the last time anyone thought to do any cleaning around here?" she demanded, "And don't you even _look_ like you expect _me_ to do it because I'll have you know, the boss may be carbon-dated but this is the twenty-first century, mister, and this is an equal opportunities gig if ever I saw one – who else would employ an Irish gambler who, considering the whinging he can do about the headaches he can get for no reason, you would _think_ would be less than keen to self-inflict them with alcohol?"

"Are ya sure yer human?" asked Doyle suspiciously, quickly shrugging as he saw her land one of those notorious "You-did-not-just-say-that" looks on him. "I only ask 'cause I didn't see ya breathe once there! And anyway, get yersel' down off yer soap box – we've got bigger problems than women's lib …"

Letting it go as she ran a hand through her long dark hair, smoothing it back into place, Cordelia gestured around the wrecked office and nodded. "True. Where does that Willow get off landing us in this mess? She's supposed to be Wicca-girl and all big with the spells and the knowledge - are you seeing any evidence to support that claim? 'Cause I sure am not! Turning a people-eating demon into a baby people-eating demon – how hard could it be? But oh no, her spell went all phooey and now look at this place! And where did Angel go? And what is that kid doing here? God, his parents are gonna freak! We're gonna go down for kidnapping …"

Doyle shot her an incredulous look, "Don't ya see what's goin' on here?"

She stared back blankly and then it seemed to dawn on her and she snapped her fingers, "Of course! It's a _demon_ kid … We need to get Angel back here so we can … Hey, those are Angel's clothes … Great, that's all we need – our boss getting arrested for indecent exposure … "

"Cor, darlin', newsflash for ya – that kid _is_ Angel."

For a moment, she looked at him in disbelief. Then she looked at the child. And when she turned back to Doyle, her mouth had formed a small, silent "oh". She was speechless – wonders would never cease.

"Cute little tyke, ain't he?"

"Doyle!" Cordelia gasped, slapping his arm as she snapped out of her stunned stupor. "Is that all you can say? Our boss is now a one hundred and something year old _toddler_!"

"Well, there ain't really a proper way to react to these things, is there?" Doyle shrugged.

"It … it can't be him … We don't know that it is …"

"Ah, c'mon, Cordy – look at him. He's what? Four-ish? And he still looks like he's got the weight o' the world on his shoulders! Who else could he be?"

"Do something!" she ordered in a panic, "He can't stay like that!"

"_Me!_ If I remember rightly, I ain't the one who got us in to this mess! Anyway, simmer down, princess – yer scarin' the poor kid." Doyle said, trying to stay calm as he went over to crouch before the child whose bottom lip was already quivering dangerously and his big brown eyes filling with tears at the sound of Cordelia's decidedly raised voice. "It's alright, little man, yer okay … Umm, d'ya remember me? Doyle?"

"D-Doyle …" the child whimpered unsurely.

"That's right. And Cordelia?"

"Cor … Cord …" The little boy struggled with the more difficult name, a look of concentration on his small, earnest face. "Cordy-la-la!"

"Close enough." Doyle smirked, "And d'ya know what yer own name is, huh?" I'm Doyle and yer …" Doyle pointed to his own chest and then to the child's, leaving the sentence hanging to see if he would get an answer.

Growing less afraid of this big man with the kind face and funny voice, the little boy pointed to his own chest with a big smile. "I's Angel!" he announced happily. "Angel, Angel, Angel!"

"Good lad!" Doyle said encouragingly, "And d'ya know how old ya are?"

Angel thought for a second and then nodded solemnly, holding up three little fingers. "I's this many."

* * *

"So he's Angel and he's three years old – you couldn't make it up! How did this happen? I did everything Willow said – and it wasn't easy, I can tell you, what with the fuzzy connection and everything …"

"Fuzzy connection?"

"Yeah, on the phone line – I could hardly … make her … out … Ohhhh …" she trailed off, a caught look on her face. "Guess I should maybe have double checked on a couple of things …"

"Maybe?" Doyle repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Polly want a cracker, much? Since I don't know what we're gonna do, repeating after me is hardly going to help! This just doesn't make sense …"

"Well, it ain't everyday something like this happens – things goin' wrong while demons ravage the city – oh wait … That's pretty much our lives, the uncut version."

"I don't just mean Angel getting younger – I mean _Angel_ getting younger. Think about it," Cordelia said as Doyle just looked mystified. "He's three – so why isn't he _Liam_?"

The Irishman opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, sitting down on top of the desk with a frown. "Actually, that's a good question, darlin' – he's a younger _Angel_, but Angel was never _young_. He's the perpetual twenty-somethin', trapped at the age Liam was turned … Which begs the question …"

"How the hell do we put him back?"

"That too, but I meant is he totally Angel, fangs an' all, or is he just a normal kid?"

"Please!" scoffed Cordelia, "With the issues Angel has, no way is he going to be a normal kid – regardless of whether he's in the chocolate milk or the O-neg camp!"

* * *

to be continued...


End file.
